Going Around In Circles
by JoeNobody
Summary: Another "theme series" set, with each chapter based on the next item in a series. But since I'm so pathetic about wanting reviews, I'm not saying what it is - feel free to guess in the comments. I'll publish it if/when someone gets it.
1. Chapter 1: Mercury

_**Author's****Note:** OK, the Bones Writing Bug has bitten me again. Dammit. And it's another series of vignettes, like the infamous "alphabet" meme so many writers use._

_This time, though, I thought of another list. Another set of things, also with a predetermined finite sequence. As as soon as I started thinking of the items in the set, story ideas kept popping into my head. In about half an hour, I had the rough ideas for the entire series. _

_But no, I'm not going to say what the list is until I'm done. I'm not even going to say how many parts there will be. I'm so pathetically craving comments that I will instead challenge you folks to speculate on what the theme is in your reviews. Yeah, I'm that needy._

_I'm not expecting this to get much more adult than T. That could change, but I doubt it._

**Chapter 1**

"Bones, you're so hot..." Booth murmured as he shifted around under the covers.

"I, too, find you sexually appealing. However, I find I am not particularly desirous of intercourse at this time."

Booth rolled away from her and tossed off the covers. "That wasn't a come-on, Bones. I mean you're literally too hot - I feel almost like I'm getting a sunburn just from holding you."

Bones also tossed off the covers. "I, too, thought I noticed that my body was radiating considerably more heat than normal. However, I did not trust my own perceptions, as sometimes pregnancy can cause unusual physiological perceptions."

"This one's for real, Bones. You're like a blast furnace."

Bones considered the matter. "While it's a relief that it is an actual symptom and not merely my own muddled perception, I still find it troubling. I have grown... accustomed to your close proximity, and have no desire to give that up."

"I like sleeping with you, too. But you're roasting me."

"I will have to discuss this with my obstetrician, but two theories immediately come to mind."

"Really? Like what?"

"The first is that pregnancy normally wreaks havoc with the mother's normal metabolism in a variety of ways. In my case, it could be influencing my hypothalamus, raising my surface body temperature. The second is that it's you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You impregnated me. I am currently gestating a fetus that consists of half your genetic material, half mine. Further, you regularly re-expose me to your genetic material. I could, I suppose, be reacting to your pheromones and other identifying biochemical traits - much like an allergic reaction."

"You mean you might be allergic to my..."

"Semen? Most certainly not. If I was, I would have a much more intense and far more localized reaction - you tend to deposit your semen in..." she sensed his discomfort, and chose to paraphrase what she was about to say. "...specific areas, not topically to my entire body, and it's not just those areas that are reacting. No, this is more of a chemical interaction than an allergy. I shall have to discuss this with my obstetrician at my next appointment."

"That's great, but what about in the meantime?"

Bones thought about it for a second. "Get up."

"Huh?"

"Get out of the bed, Booth."

"You're not kicking me out to the couch, are you?"

"Of course not. Nor will I be sleeping out there. Now, help me remove the bedding." They carefully took off the comforter and blanket, setting them gently on a chair. "No, leave the sheet." She then went over to the thermostat. "I'll just adjust this up slightly..."

"Up?" Booth almost yelped. "We were just talking about being too hot, and you're turning the thermostat up?"

"Only to 72 degrees. Booth, think about it. We are in a relatively small space, with several environmental factors we can quite easily control. We can adjust the ambient temperature, the insulating covers, and even introduce bedclothes if necessary, until we find an optimal climate to compensate for the situation. We could even get a humidifier and regulate the relative humidity in here."

"I see. So, we turn up the heat a little, then sleep under just a sheet?"

"I think that should work most adequately. And here's a trick I learned on tropical digs: if you start getting too warm, simply extrude one leg from under the sheet. The human leg - with its surface area and blood flow - can be an excellent radiator of body heat."

"Yeah, I learned that one in the Army. Just don't try it in a tent unless you have mosquito netting up."

"Exactly. Now, shall we see if this is an acceptable solution?"

Booth slipped back under the sheet. "Sure. But I'm putting one limit on this - we limit the monkeying around to just the thermostat and the bedding. I've gotten used to having you naked in bed with me, and I'm not about to give that up. I'll spray myself with Solarcaine first. Besides, why the hell should I put on more clothes when I'm too hot?"

Bones joined him. "The bedclothes would serve as insulation, preventing the direct skin-to-skin contact. However, I find that an acceptable compromise - with the provision that we may reconsider that should these measures prove insufficient. I, too, have grown accustomed to your undressed presence." She turned out the light.

After a moment, she spoke. "Is this better, or should I go get one of my nightgowns?"

He didn't answer, but she felt him shift in the bed as he slowly worked a leg free of the sheet.


	2. Chapter 2: Venus

_**Author's****Note:**Yay, reviews! Three of 'em! _

_Natesmama: that was based on an actual experience of mine, with a lady I nicknamed BF - "Blast Furnace." And she wasn't even pregnant. That I stumbled on to something real is just blind luck._

_Amanda: sorry, no. This is definitely a limited list, and "song titles" would be way too open-ended. "Songs from a specific album, in track order" would fit, but that ain't it. I will be greatly surprised if anyone gets it before part 5 or 6 - if even then. _

_Klingon: am I gonna have to sneak in a Star Trek reference just for you? I'm tempted... but the first idea I had was just too tasteless. _

**Chapter 2**

Bones heard another exasperated sigh from the bathroom. "Steamed mirror again, Booth?"

"Yeah, it just makes it hard to shave. This is why I always want to get to the bathroom before you in the morning."

"If you weren't such a sluggard in the morning, you could easily rise before me and tend to your ablutions first."

"Yeah, I know. It's just... oh, forget it. I'll get one of those shower squeegees or something."

Bones considered the matter. "Actually, I have an alternate solution that I think has benefits for both of us."

"Really? I'm all ears."

"You could change your rituals around, and shave at night instead of in the morning."

"What? That's ridiculous, Bones. Men gotta shave in the morning."

"Why?"

Booth paused, stumped. "Because we always have."

"I've given it some thought. I've discovered that I find you more aesthetically pleasing with a hint of stubble, and not clean-shaven - and Angela has commented several times that it makes more, quote, 'even more studly.' So I have no problems with you letting your beard grow in during the day. However, once we retire to bed, we tend to turn out the lights, and the visual element is irrelevant. However, your stubble is rather abrasive on my skin, and I prefer you much more closely shaven. So if you were to relegate your shaving to the evening, before bed, we would avoid the whole fogged-mirror issue, and I would be..." she paused, and added a hint of a purr to her voice, "..._very__appreciative_ of your efforts."

Booth considered the matter. He'd never really thought about it, but he couldn't come up with a single good reason why he couldn't go along with it - at least on a trial basis. The bureau shouldn't mind if he gave his beard a 12-hour jump start; it didn't grow that fast. What's the big deal if his five-o-clock shadow starts kicking in at 5 a.m. instead of 5 p.m.? And Angela certainly had a good eye for what looks good; if she liked him with a hint of stubble, then that was good enough. He put the razor back.

"OK, Bones, we'll give it a try. But I'm going to hold you to that 'appreciative' thing."

He felt a sudden pressure against his back, and felt her arms snake around his bare torso. "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	3. Chapter 3: Earth

**Chapter 2**

Booth awoke to an empty bed. He didn't care for that, but it was the weekend, and Parker was staying over for the first time in their new house. He guessed Bones had gotten up ahead of him, and was keeping Parker entertained so he could sleep in. He smiled. He could get used to this.

He rolled over on his back, his eyes still closed. He focused on his hearing, trying to pick up hints of what was going on in the house. A quick sniff didn't reveal any breakfast scents, but that didn't necessarily mean anything - Bones was regularly trying to 'fix' his eating habits, and most of the things she wanted him to eat were as lacking in scent as in taste. But he should be able to hear something - anything. Murmured conversation, the TV, footsteps. But nothing.

Except...

An odd sound, coming from outside his window. A familiar one, but one he couldn't place. It was something he did not associate with home, but from somewhere else. Somewhen else.

His Army days. And, occasionally, out in the field. Digging. Someone was digging in the back yard.

Someone was digging up **his** back yard of **his**brand-new home without **his**permission. He quickly jumped out of bed, tossed on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and raced out to confront the vandals.

In the back yard, he didn't find any strangers. Instead, he found Bones and Parker digging a hole (Parker doing the actual digging; Bones was at the "awkward" stage of her pregnancy), a plastic tub on the ground next to the growing hole.

"Hi, Dad! About time you got up!" Parker grinned at him, not interrupting his digging.

"What the..." Booth paused. He was sure Bones had a good explanation for this, and it was too early to get too angry. He forced a smile on his face. "What's going on?"

"Bones is teaching me how to be an anthropologist!"

Booth's confused expression didn't change, so Bones elaborated. "I was telling Parker about some of the digs I've gone on, and he was interested in seeing what it was like. So we're going to dig a hole, bury some bones in it, and then retrieve them the next weekend he is over."

Booth nodded. "That makes sense. Yeah, that... WHAT? You're burying bones in our back yard?"

"Of course. It will be good practice for Parker - he can learn how to recover them safely, without damaging them, and identify them."

"Please tell me they aren't human bones."

Bones gave him an exasperated look. "Of course they are. It would be useless to try to have him identify animal bones, Booth."

"Um... where did they come from? You didn't bring them home from the Jeffersonian, did you?"

Bones was indignant. "Of course not! That would be grossly improper! I bought them from an educational supply company. And they were donated for educational purposes."

Booth sighed. He knew that being with Bones would have some... odd complications, but he knew that going in. This was just one of those things, and he'd have to get used to it. "And you're OK with this, Parker?"

There was no faking the boy's grin. "Are you kidding? This is the coolest!"

Booth leveled a gaze at Bones. "I thought we talked about you turning my son into a squint..."

She met his challenge boldly, placing a proud arm around the boy's shoulders. "Parker is an exceptionally intelligent and mature child, with great potential and a serious interest in this field. You should be proud of that fact, and grateful that I am willing and available to help him develop that."

Booth sighed. "OK, but here's the deal: Parker, you're going to be spending some time in the lab with Bones. I want you to spend some time with Wendell - he's the most normal squint down there. He can show you how you can be a squint without... well, being a squint."

He then had another thought. "And I want you to spend some time with Hodgins, too. He'll show you all the ways how not to act."


	4. Chapter 4: Mars

_Author's Note: Thanks for the comments and reviews! I'm stuck on Chapter 7 now; I might go ahead and write 8 and 9, then come back to it. Still no one close to the theme. Remember: a set with a certain number and sequence. KlingonGal, I'll PM you my first idea for the Star Trek gag at the end. _

**Chapter 4**

It was another fund-raiser for the Jeffersonian, another "command performance" for the Medico-Legal Team. And to make sure that everyone attended, Cam had instructed each of them to bring their "party clothes" to work - they would be leaving straight from the lab to the gathering.

Booth found himself actually dreading this gathering more than previous ones. This would be the first public "outing" of him and Bones as a couple, and her pregnancy was just starting to show. He wouldn't just be there as the FBI liaison, but as Bones' "plus one." Luckily, as he didn't technically answer to Cam, he had managed to swing home and change into his tux there - avoiding teasing at work.

He ducked into Bones' office. "Come on, Bones, we're gonna be... whoa." He stopped cold, jaw dropping open. Dr. Temperance Brennan was wearing the most amazing dress. Dark red, tight in all the right spots, flowing in others, low cut in certain key areas, it shimmered as she moved. In some odd way, it reminded him of sand dunes in the wind. The only thing setting it off was her scowl.

"Bones, you look... wow."

"It's about time. I'm in trouble, and it's your fault."

"Huh? I just got here!"

She spun around, showing him the back of the dress. It was just as elegant and gorgeous from that angle - except for the big v-shaped gap in the rear. "I can't zip it up. When it was fitted for me, I wasn't pregnant, and I could close it without assistance. But thanks to you and your exceptionally motile sperm, I require assistance in closing it up."

Booth chuckled. "Now, Bones, just hold still." He firmly pulled the top of each side and pulled them together, then carefully eased the zipper up. Once it was secure, he folded the flaps over the zipper. "There you go. Just be careful tonight. No sit-ups, no arm wrestling, and take it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." He then ducked as she swiped at him with her matching clutch. "And it isn't all my fault. It takes two to tango - my swimmers only did half the job."

She sighed and took his arm. "Come on, Booth. Let's collect the rest of the team and head out - Cam's got a limousine waiting."

There wasn't much gathering to be done. The rest of the team was assembled at the door - except for Hodgins. "Angela, where's that husband of yours?"

Angela sighed. "Cam, you know he hates these things."

"Yes, and you know I don't care. We all have to go, and that includes him. Now where is he?"

"He's in his lab, doing some experiments."

Booth was immediately driven to be the peacemaker. "Cam, we'll go get him." He took Bones by the elbow, and they quickly stepped off to get him.

In the lab, Hodgins was still in his lab coat. "Come on, Hodgins, we're gonna be late. We all know you hate these things, but this time there's no avoiding it. Cam's on the warpath."

Hodgins didn't move from the beakers. "Hang on, I'm almost done here. And don't worry - I'm suited up under this. I just can't leave this alone at this point."

"Sorry, bug-man. Command performance. Everyone's waiting on you - your boss, your wife, and most importantly, me." Booth took him by the arm and pulled him away from the table.

"No, no, wait! I just need another three minutes! If I stop now, it'll..."

**FOOMP!**

"...blow," he finished lamely.

Most of the room was covered in a fine, granular material. Including Hodgins, Booth, and Bones. Booth noted, with just a hint of amusement, that it was a near-perfect match for Bones' dress. However, it was a terrible match for her hair. Her eyes started burning with a terrible fury.

Booth sighed. "Congratulations, Hodgins. You just managed to not only keep yourself out of this party, but got us out of it, too. And did I mention that this tux is a rental?"

Cam stuck her head in the door. "What's the holdup, and what was that sound?" She took in the freshly-dusted lab at a glance. "Oh, hell no, Hodgins. You are NOT getting out of this party that easily. What is that stuff?"

"It's a granulated form of..."

"Never mind. Just give me yes or no answers. Is it combustible?"

"No."

"Caustic?"

"No."

"Toxic?"

"No."

"Would it pose any dangers if it were to be vacuumed up by the hand-held vacs we use for minor spills?"

"No."

"Good." She stuck her head out the door and bellowed. "Angela! Sweets! Miss Wick! Go get three hand-vacs, and get in here!"

Once the entire team was assembled, Cam handed out the vacuums. "Angela, you clean up your husband. Miss Wick, you assist Dr. Brennan. I'll work on Booth. Come on, people, we have five minutes to get these people back up to party-ready."

Sweets, trying not to laugh, stood by the door. "What can I do to help, Dr. Saroyan?"

Cam carefully considered the question. "You can think about the most painful psychological torture I can legally inflict on Hodgins for making this mess."

It took slightly more than five minutes, but in the end nearly all the granules were removed and the group ready to go. Ironically, Hodgins was finished first; his lab gear had done its job. Booth had been the most difficult; the granules seemed to have a serious affinity for his tuxedo. He'd been very insistent that he would never go out in public in a red shirt - or even a shirt with a hint of red in or on it. And he refused to explain it.

Cam, setting down the vacuum, turned to Sweets. "Any suggestions, Doctor?"

"Well, considering his apathy for such events, you could order him to coordinate another fund-raising dinner... or even host it at his home."

Hodgins spun around. "What? No way!"

Cam smiled. "I will definitely take that under advisement, Dr. Sweets. Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a party to attend to." With that, they left the lab, the red granules crunching under their feet.


	5. Chapter 5: Jupiter

**Chapter 5**

Dr. Jack Hodgins was experiencing a very unfamiliar sensation - frustration. And he found he didn't like it.

The chemical sample from the latest murder scene was bothering him tremendously. And it shouldn't be. But it just made no sense. And he couldn't blame the tech who'd gathered the sample - he'd collected it himself.

"Hey, Hodgins, got anything yet?" Hodgins looked up to see Booth - sorry, Special Agent Seeley Booth - strolling into his lab.

"No, man. This is beating me up something fierce."

"What? Is the great Hodgins admitting defeat? You can't figure out what that gunk is?"

Hodgins glared at Booth. "No, I have figured out exactly what it is. I have identified every single component in it. I even know where they came from."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I have no idea what it was supposed to do. It's just... stuff. It does nothing, it has no interesting properties, it has no apparent use whatsoever. It's just seems to be a random collection of common household substances."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it has no use - it's doing a great job at driving you nuts."

Hodgins gave Booth a sarcastic smile. "Thanks, G-Man. You think this is easy?"

"No, but I do know you're the best." Booth paused. "You said it was just household substances. Can I see the list?"

"Sure, why not? Maybe you can see something I missed." He snickered at the thought.

Booth studied the list carefully for a long moment. "Huh. Yeah, these are all things you can find pretty much in any city or town around the world." Then he cocked an eyebrow. "Hodgins, you got a pencil?"

"Pencil? Yeah, here."

Booth frowned. "No, not one of those stupid clicky mechanical pencils. A real, wood pencil."

"What do you want with one of those?"

"Just get one."

"I bet Angela has some. I'll be right back." He headed for the door. "Just don't touch anything!"

"Relax, Hodgins. Could I possibly blow up the lab in one minute? I know you could, but do you think I could?"

"I'd rather not find out."

It took him closer to two minutes to get the pencil. "OK, now what?"

"Is this the actual evidence, or did you mix up a replica?"

"It's my own mix. Chemically, it's identical, but it's not actual evidence, so we can mess around with it."

"Good man." Booth said. "Spit in it."

"Huh?"

"You heard me, Hodgins. Hock a few loogies in there."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Hodgins kept a skeptical eye on Booth, but did as instructed. Several expectorations later, he asked "is that enough?"

Booth studied the now-gooey mess. "Yeah, that oughta do it. Now mix it up with the pencil - the sharp end."

"This is some kind of prank, right? Does Cam have some cameras on me to see me doing all this stupid stuff?"

"Just do it."

Hodgins, now downright scoffing, did as he was ordered. As he did, it started to change into a dark red color. "Hey, is that supposed to happen?"

"Yup. Now pick it up."

Hodgins started to pick up the tray, but quickly set it back down. "What the hell? It's hot!" Booth just smiled. "What is going on here, Booth? Is this about to ignite or detonate?"

"Don't worry. It'll top out at less than 140 degrees Fahrenheit. It'll stay that temperature for about 12 hours, but no, it won't explode or catch on fire."

Hodgins looked at Booth with new respect, then went back to the substance. "This is so cool. What the hell is it?"

"In the Rangers, we called it 'firefly paste.' It's easy to mix up, easily portable, doesn't look like much, sticks nicely to most material, and shows up like a spotlight in night-vision scopes. You wouldn't believe how useful that can be."

"Very cool. I'm gonna have to make up some more of this stuff."

"So our guy has Special Forces training - and some pretty extensive training, too. And was most likely part of a team."

Hodgins gave Booth an admiring look. "Man, I doff my hat to you. This is some seriously cool stuff, and it had me totally buffaloed."

Booth smiled triumphantly. "Come on and say it, Hodgins. You know I earned it."

Hodgins shook his head. "No. No way, man. That's only for real scientists, not laymen."

"Say it."

Hodgins sighed, then looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. "OK. You're the king of the lab."


	6. Chapter 6: Saturn

_Author's Note: This story was partly inspired by gawilliams' "Collective Wisdom" story. _

_And NatesMama nailed my theme - each has been inspired by the nine planets, in order from the sun._

_Chapter 1: Mercury - heat and temperature._

_Chapter 2: Venus - cloudy and misty._

_Chapter 3: Earth - playing in the dirt._

_Chapter 4: Mars - warpath, red sand._

_Chapter 5: Jupiter: King, red spot._

_And now, Chapter 6: Saturn._

_And no, KlingonGal, there will be no jokes in Chapter 7 about Klingons around Uranus. Sorry. You'll have to live with the one in Chapter 5._

**Chapter 6**

"Bones, can we talk?"

Dr. Temperance Brennan looked up from her magazine, confused. "Of course we can. Neither of us has been struck with aphasia or laryngitis, there are no excessive noise levels to dampen us, I am unaware of any societal taboos against speech in our own home."

Booth sighed. "That's not what I mean. Can we be serious for a few minutes?"

Bones set down her magazine. She already felt herself filling with dread. "Of course, Booth. What's on your mind?"

"I just want to make sure we're still clear on marriage."

"Nothing has changed, Booth. You wish to be wed, while I do not. And you have assured me that you can accept that."

"Yeah, I know. And I am. But just the same, I want to make sure you understand a few things."

"Like what?"

"I agreed to stop asking you to marry me, to not bring it up, and I've lived up to that."

"Until now."

"Please, Bones. Let me finish." She nodded. "And I'm not asking you now. But I want to be absolutely certain that my feelings on that matter haven't changed, and aren't going to change."

"I know that, and I have not had the slightest doubts of your sincerity. But I told you - the best I can offer you is that some day I may find a reason to wish to be married, and at that point I would inform you that I had changed my mind."

"Yeah, that's what this is about." Booth took out a small box. "Pops gave this to me a while ago. It was my grandmother's wedding ring. I want you to have it."

"I thought you weren't proposing to me. My answer is..."

"Bones, I am not proposing to you. Am I down on one knee? What I am doing is entrusting this to you. One day, I believe that you will want to marry me. I don't know when, or where, or under what circumstances it will happen, but I believe it will. And when that happens, I don't want there to be any time at all for you to reconsider. So when you make that choice, you can take out that ring and put it on. That will be your way of agreeing to marry me."

Bones carefully studied the ring to give herself time to think. "It is a beautiful ring, Booth. And I know what it must mean to you and Pops, to entrust it to me. But if I accept it, you could take it as a sign that I am accepting your proposal, and I would not have that misunderstanding."

Booth sighed. "Yes, I could - but I'm telling you I won't. Only that I'm taking you at your word that someday you might accept my proposal. Please, take it - it would mean a great deal to me."

Bones looked again at the ring, then met his eyes. "Very well. I accept the custody of this ring, under those conditions." She closed the box carefully. "But I can't promise that I will ever put it on."

Booth smiled. "I know you can't promise that, Bones. But I know you will. And when you do, I will be the happiest man in the world." He took her hand. "But until that day, I still will be deleriously happy every day, just being with you."


	7. Chapter 7: Uranus

_Author's Note: This one really beat me up. I refused to go for the obvious references. Then it came to me - Uranus is essentially "lying on its side" in its orbit, rotated 90 degrees from the plane of the ecliptic, with its north and south poles roughly on the solar equator and rotating "up and down." _

**Chapter 7**

Dr. Lance Sweets studied the couple in front of him. It didn't take a genius - let alone a genius with his extensive experience of working with these two - to know there was trouble between them.

"All right, let's skip right through the preliminaries. You both are upset over something. Who wants to tell me about it?"

Dr. Temperance Brennan spoke up first. "Booth is being completely unreasonable. I have asked that he undergo a very simple medical procedure, one with tremendous potential benefits for him, and he is refusing."

Booth snarled back. "No, what she means is she wants me to undergo a very uncomfortable and embarrassing procedure for no reason whatsoever, just because she doesn't like me being protective of her and our child!"

"Whoa, guys. Let's start at the beginning. Dr. Brennan, what is it you want Booth to do?"

"He's approaching the age of 40, and the best medical experts say that that is a good time for a person to have a colonoscopy, to check for potential health threats like cancer."

Booth wasn't backing down. "I've done my homework. For someone with no symptoms and no family history of problems, there's no reason why I shouldn't wait until I'm 50. And that describes me to a 'T.'"

"But Booth, even with your history, it would be good to get a baseline exam for future comparison."

"I don't care. I'm not having some doctor bend me over and shove a tube up my butt."

"Actually, Agent Booth, most of the time the patient lies on his side, with his knees curled up to his..." Sweets trailed off under Booth's glare.

"Not helping, Sweets. It's not the posture." He turned back to Bones. "This has nothing to do with my health. This is your way of wanting to get even for my being so protective of you."

"The term is 'smothering,' Booth. You treat me like I was an infant. And even that's not accurate - you'd most likely literally suffocate an infant if you treated it like you want to treat me."

"Look, when it was just you, you could be as reckless as you like. When it was us, I didn't like it, but I understood that it was hopeless to try to change you. But now, you you have our daughter to think of, too. And you've got to start taking that into account."

"I do take her into account - every moment. It's just that I'm not as paranoid as you are."

"Paranoid?"

Sweets decided it was time to intervene. "Dr. Brennan, I think what Agent Booth is saying here is that he wants the best for your child - and that 'best' means both parents being both present and healthy. Is that correct, Agent Booth?" Booth nodded. "And Agent Booth, I think that Dr. Brennan understands that and respects that. Is that true. Dr. Brennan?" She also nodded.

"So, Agent Booth, in light of that, Dr. Brennan's insistence is her way of expressing the same sentiment. Colon cancer is a very subtle and nasty form of cancer, and even though you show no symptoms or family history, it's still something worth taking into account. Plus, your willingness to undergo the testing is a way of expressing that you care about yourself as much as you do about her and your child, and are willing to make personal sacrifices for the good of the child."

Brennan nodded and smiled triumphantly. "Exactly. Booth, if you expect me to accept your smothering in the name of our child, then you, too, should be willing to accept an intrusive level of concern from my part. Because if anyone knows how important having an involved male figure is in a child's life, it is you."

"That's hitting below the belt, Bones."

"I was referring to the role your grandfather had in your upbringing, Booth - and you are a far, far better man for it. I was deprived of my own father for much of my childhood, and I will not risk that for our daughter."

Booth sighed. "Fine, all right, set it up. I'll go through with it." He then locked her eyes with his own. "But you're going to be right there with me. If I'm going through this, you're going to go through it too."

Brennan considered the matter. "That is an acceptable compromise. However, you will be on your own for the preparatory and recovery periods. From my research and my own knowledge of you, you will not be pleasant to be around for either event." Another thought occurred to her. "And, it goes without saying, that you will be with me in the delivery room when I give birth."

Booth gave her his warmest smile. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Bones."


	8. Chapter 8: Neptune

_Author's note: Whoa, where the dickens did all those amazingly cool reviews come from? I'm thrilled beyond words!_

_These last two chapters have really been a challenge, but I have a confession: I'll always consider Pluto a planet, and I actually wrote the Pluto chapter right after writing Chapter 3. It was the most fun to write out of the entire series, by far, and I hope you'll agree. I'll publish it within 24 hours, promise._

**Chapter 8**

Dr. Temperance Brennan scowled at the bones on her table. The century and a half on the ocean floor had not been kind to the remains, making her work even more of a challenge. Add in having to sort the bones from at least two dozen bodies...

The manifest from the slave ship had been a great help. With its almost-obscenely casual list of details of its human cargo, carefully sorted by age, sex, height, and degree of blackness, along with presumed familial ties, it became more of a puzzle than a mystery. Each bone could not only be compared with others to match up, but then compared with the manifest. In very short order all had been tentatively identified.

But "tentative" wasn't a word Dr. Brennan cared for. She insisted on personally verifying each individual bone, making certain was associated with the right victim. She'd already swapped out six ribs, one radius, and several wrist bones, making each match as closely as she could.

Special Agent Seeley Booth strode into the lab. "Hey, Bones, come on. Let's grab some dinner. Wong Fu's is waiting."

"Sorry, Booth. Just give me five more minutes."

Booth frowned his concern. "Come on, Bones. These aren't going anywhere. It's not like they have next of kin waiting for identification, or their killer's escaping. They can wait."

Bones looked up at him. "I don't think you quite understand, Booth. I - we - owe them this."

"I know, Bones, but still..."

"Booth, you may not believe this, but in many ways I think I am at least as patriotic as you are. I love this country. And a large part of that is because of my work around the world."

"You're starting to lose me, Bones. You love our country because you spend so much time away from it?"

"Booth, I've been all around the world. I've studied genocides on literally every continent. The vast majority of them were ordered and committed by governments. I've seen so much inhumanity that it has literally sickened me. And in nearly every country I've been in, I've compared it to our own - and been tremendously grateful that I am an American."

Booth sighed sympathetically. "I know what you mean. I've felt the same thing, in a lot of places. It's good to be reminded, every now and then, that we're damned lucky to be here, and to take a bit of pride in the good we, as a nation, have done around the world."

"Exactly. But these people... they're as much a part of our history as defeating the Axis in World War II, or going to the moon, or all the medical miracles we've produced. They're victims of our own form of genocide, of our on systemic exploitation and destruction of the people of Africa. Our nation was literally built on the backs of slaves - of these people. And we owe them a debt of honor to in some way compensate them."

Booth carefully considered the matter. "That's true, but we also have to note that we put an end to it. And a lot of people died to put an end to slavery, and we've spent a lot of time trying to make that right."

"That's what I'm doing here, Booth. These people were stripped of their identity and very humanity, then left to rot at the bottom of the ocean. If I can identify them, and we honor them and give them a proper burial, we can at least give them back that much. It's not much, but it's the best we can do. And it's something that we, as Americans, owe them."

Booth looked at her with new respect. He was used to these kinds of feelings from both the FBI and the Army, but in both cases it was almost never stated out loud - it was one of those things that was simply shared tacitly among the select few serving their country. That sentiment was expressing itself in a completely different way than he was used to seeing, but he recognized it nonetheless. "You know what? I'm not really that hungry. I can wait a little longer."

Bones looked up with an appreciative smile. "No, you're right. Give me another ten minutes, and we can go." She then returned to the skeleton before her. There was something that didn't seem quite right about the left calcaneus. It could be an old injury, or a birth defect, but she wasn't quite certain it belonged with the rest of the bones...


	9. Chapter 9: Pluto

_Author's Note: Yay, finished! As I said earlier, this was the most fun to write. And no, it's not based on my own observations, just some various comments I've heard and read over the years. I've expanded greatly on the theme, but it's not my original idea. _

**Chapter 9**

Dr. Temperance Brennan leaned forward on the couch. "Booth, how can you say that this sort of show would be beneficial for our child's development?"

Booth looked at her, stunned. "Bones, it's Disney! It's made for kids! Everyone loves Disney!"

"But it's not only totally illogical, it doesn't even adhere to its own internal consistency."

"No, it's... huh?"

"Look at the main characters. An anthropomorphic mouse. An anthropomorphic duck. Anthropomorphic dogs. All sentient, talking animals."

"Yeah, so what?"

"But the mouse has a pet dog. A semi-anthropomorphic dog that is incapable of speech."

"I repeat: so what?"

"It raises some very troubling questions, Booth. Is the dog mentally disabled, and needs the mouse as his guardian? Are there different species of dogs, with some sentient and others not? Is his inability to speak an indicator of lesser intelligence? I would argue that he is actually more intelligent than some of the characters who can speak, yet the mouse treats him like a pet. It's actually quite disturbing."

Booth sighed. "Bones, you picked up on that because you're a trained anthropologist. But to a kid... they just see things that make them happy."

Bones turned on the couch to face him. "And that's wrong, Booth. Children should be trained as soon as possible to be critical thinkers, to not blindly accept things at face value. And these programs, quite frankly, could bear some serious critical analysis."

"And I can't think of anyone better qualified to perform that kind of analysis," Booth muttered.

"Thank you. And apart from the inhumane treatment of the obviously-disabled dog, did it ever occur to anyone why so many of them wear shirts, but not pants?"

"Huh?"

"Look, Booth. Most of them wear tops of some kind, but not bottoms. It's a complete inversion of human social norms - toplessness is natural in many cultures, but never lower nudity. The genitals and buttocks are almost universally covered. Toplessness is relatively common in some cultures - mainly tropical, where there isn't as much need for warmth - but never tops without bottoms."

"OK, now you're just getting strange."

"I think I understand the rationale behind it - it helps distinguish characters who share a species, it makes the characters more distinct for marketing purposes, and it indicates aspects of their personalities. For example, note that the duck with the excessively violent temper wears a military uniform, which is associated with violence."

"Hey, watch it! Former Army Ranger here!"

"Sorry, but it's true - people in the military are trained to use violence to solve problems, and the duck is very short-tempered and very prone to violence. It's not surprising that he is in that uniform."

Booth was getting desperate. "Hey, look - he's wearing pants! He's the main character, and he's wearing pants!"

Bones studied the screen. "Yes, he is. And a bowtie. But the pants are short pants - much like a child's. His clothing and demeanor and even his voice are very childlike. In fact..."

Booth knew that tone. It didn't bode well.

"In fact, the whole genre seems almost designed to be hostile towards parents and adults in general."

"You're really losing me here, Bones."

"There are very few clearly-defined adults in their world, Booth - and I don't recall a single positive role model as an authority figure. For example, the extremely wealthy duck - he is a very unsympathetic character. The sociopath duck has three nephews - but there is never any mention of their parents, and he acts _in__loco__parentis,_ implying that they are deceased. The whole thing seems to be a refutation of the importance of adults, and creating a fantasy world where children can govern themselves. It's almost like a deeply flawed inversion of _The__Lord__Of__The__Flies."_

Booth was stunned. "You've read _Lord__Of__The__Flies?"_

"Of course I have, Booth," she answered scornfully. "It's required reading in anthropology - it's not entirely accurate, but it does feature some truly profound insights into human nature and the development of a society. I've also read _Animal__Farm_and many of the works of Joseph Conrad."

"Look, Bones, I respect what you're saying about critical thinking, but can't you let our kid... you know, be a kid for at least a few years?"

Bones considered the matter. "It does take several years for the child brain to develop to the point where it can manage such concepts as critical thinking. And while I am deeply troubled by the subtext of these programs, I believe that they are subtle enough that I can counterprogram their deleterious effects until she can grasp them for herself. And I do see that they have some positive messages, as well as undeniable entertainment value. So I suppose that it will be acceptable."

Booth gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"However, she will not be exposed to your comic books until she's at least 12."

"They're graphic novels, Bones, and what's wrong with my graphic novels?"

"Do you really want me to get started on that right now, Booth?"

Booth considered the matter. He'd just won on the Disney cartoons; there was no rush to defend his graphic novels. "You're right. I can show you the error of your ways another time."

Bones laughed "'The error of my ways?' Booth, you're so adorable when you're completely delusional..."


	10. Chapter 10: Mooning Over Readers

**Afterword**

OK, time to tidy up a few things.

**KlingonGal:** When I first thought of sneaking in a Star Trek reference, my first thought was the old jokes about "Klingons around Uranus." But not even I could do that, so instead you got a "redshirt" line in Chapter 4.

**Mimssio:** First, whatever drugs you take, you wanna share? I could use that kind of enthusiasm and whimsy. And if you liked this story, I bet you'd like my other non-M-rated stories. I tend to have fun with them. And no, "firefly paste" is my own creation. I seemed like something Special Forces could really use, and it gave Booth a chance to "usurp the crown."

When I started this, I had solid ideas for most of the planets, but was seriously stuck on Uranus and Neptune. (Pluto almost wrote itself, to be honest.) I figured something would come to mind by the time I got there. It did, but it was a LOT of work. I knew the ocean would figure in for Neptune, but my initial ideas just wouldn't work - Bones would NOT be interested in a cruise or spearfishing, and I couldn't get a good angle on a whale-watching trip. And for Uranus, I was NOT going to go for the "your-anus" jokes. I ended up kinda sorta doing it anyway, but I rationalized it with the posture.

For the record: Mercury, Venus, and Uranus were all based on personal experiences. Pluto was based on various discussions I've heard and read over the years. Neptune was a bit of a behind-the-scenes from the sixth season episode "The Shallow In The Deep." The rest came from my twisted brain.

Thanks SO much for all the wonderful reviews. It's what makes the writing worthwhile.


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